


après sun

by zeraparker



Series: the one he can't deny [5]
Category: Formula E RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, Facials, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Swimming Pools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 09:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeraparker/pseuds/zeraparker
Summary: “I was wondering whether you’re straight, you know?” Carl says conversationally, before he turns around, giving Andre a good look of his muscular back, the swell of his arse.Eventually Andre finds his voice again. “You could have just asked,” he suggests, raising an eyebrow when Carl glances over his shoulder.“Now where’s the fun in that?” he asks back, before he raises his arms over his head and dives into the pool in one fluid motion.~~Mykonos 2018. A small flash back to how Andre and Carl started out in terms of this story-verse.





	après sun

**Author's Note:**

> Took a small break from writing and online stuff since I got quite a lot on my calender the past weeks, and wasn't too happy with my writing. Coming back with a bit of mindless feel good porn (yes, this is a possibility for this pairing and trying to set a mood for how I want to continue them after all the end of season angst has been dealt with). Enjoy!

The ink-blue midnight sky is aglow with a million stars. It’s one of the things that attracted Andre to the house in Gordes, how the night sky seems alive without the artificial light of a city like Tokyo that he’d become so accustomed to over the years, a place that never sleeps, that’s always lit up, banishing the secrets of the universe behind a thick layer of smog and light pollution. Here on Mykonos, with the blanket of stars reflected by the ocean below, the universe seems endless, ready to swallow him whole, to draw him up into its endless abyss if he only dared to flap his arms like a bird and take off.

It lures him outside in his restless wanderings, chased from the villa by the enthusiastic moaning from whoever found themselves in the room adjoining his. They’re a lively group, the people Jev has asked to come along for the vacation. Andre can hear the party still going on from one of the outdoor areas that surround the villa like petals of a flower, spaced out to capture the best views, the most sun. Andre follows one of the bannisters to look down onto the area below, the hot tubs and bar becoming the centre of their nightly celebrations, their music and laughter still loud despite the late hour, only partly shielded by the white canvas of the parasols.

Andre turns away, heading to one of the patios facing inlands. No lights are switched on here, the house shielding it from the party and the lamps along the coastal road. Only the square shape of the pool is glowing like a jewel, the water lit up by the lamps set into its sides, dim enough compared to the sparkling stars above. The water isn’t still, waves making the light play over the trees and parasols on the far side of the patio. Someone is swimming in the pool, cutting neat rows from one end to the other efficiently. A bundle of fabric lies forgotten on one of the deckchairs.

He considers turning away, leaving whoever sought the solitude out here at this time, but then again, he doesn’t want to go into the water, he just wants to lie down on one of the deckchairs and lose himself in the stars, maybe fall asleep out here. His intrusion should be acceptable. With that in mind he approaches the row of deckchairs and sits down on the closest one. Lying back, he lets out a long sigh as he looks up at the stars, crossing his arms behind his head.

If he keeps his eyes away from the pool, the sloshing water almost sounds like the waves of the ocean only a couple hundred meters down from the villa. The noise of the party only barely reaches him, just the steady thump of the base making it over the distance. If he strains is ears, he can still make out the sex noises from one of the open windows of the villa. It all mixes together, an almost hypnotic backdrop to Andre’s musings, and he finds himself slowly unwind, thoughts aimlessly drifting.

When the silence spreads over the patio, Andre startles, can’t quite recall when the sound of the water has stopped. He sits up a little to look around, only to find Carl at the edge of the pool, his chin propped up on his lower arms which are resting on the edge of the pool. His long, wet hair is slicked out of his face, his breathing still slightly laboured from the exertion.

“Late night workout?” Andre asks in greeting, his voice low, intimate in the darkness.

Carl shrugs. “Easier than having to dodge floaties and tipsy people during the day.” He lifts his head from his arms, cocking his head to the side. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Andre shakes his head. “Too much noise.” He loves Gordes, but the utter silence there has spoilt him for his travels, making him much more sensitive to disturbances. He’d made a grimace when his mum told him amusedly that he was starting to get old, that maybe it was time to think about settling down somewhere. Andre isn’t done yet, though. This first year at Techeetah didn’t feel like an end, merely a start. He doesn’t yet want to think about the end of a road he’s barely started on.

“Overwhelming,” Carl agrees, the pensive look on his face reminding Andre of the pictures of Burning Man Carl had shown him the other day, his tales of the crowd in the desert tinted with longing and exhaustion. Andre had laughed off his invitation to come along some time, but the pictures Carl had taken are beautiful, otherworldly, and had made Andre’s fingers itch to get take his camera and see for himself.

Whatever Andre meant to reply, the words get stuck in his throat when Carl uses the lull in their conversation to push his hands against the edge of the pool and lift himself out of the water. He’s entirely naked, the water running down his body in rivulets, over his skin tanned by the desert sun and the days in the Mediterranean, paler where it had been covered by shorts or swim trunks during the day. Droplets get caught in the fine hairs on his chest, catching the dim light to sparkle like the body glitter Andre had only seen pictures of him wearing. In those pictures, Carl had been wearing jeans so low they barely covered anything at all. The way he’s unselfconsciously walking over to the row of deckchairs now allows Andre’s eyes to stray, to appreciate Carl’s body that looks sculpted like the marble statues he’d seen all over the island.

“You should jump in, it’s really nice,” Carl says conversationally as he leans down to pick up his towel, rubbing it over his face. There’s a glass on the small table next to the deckchair, a finger wide of ouzo mixed with water still at the bottom, the ice cubes long gone. Carl empties it with one quick swallow.

Andre swallows reflexively too, but his mouth is dry, his eyes still roaming over the expanse of naked skin so readily available in front of him. Carl doesn’t seem to mind his staring: Andre knows he isn’t subtle, his eyes following the dancing lights reflected by the water as they draw patterns over Carl’s skin, allows his eyes to linger on the flat planes of Carl’s stomach, to follow the water droplets clinging like morning dew to the trail of hairs below his belly button to where it grows thick and dark around the base of his cock.

When he finally drags his gaze back up, Carl’s grin is full of lascivious amusement. He sets the glass back down, throws the towel back onto the chair. He takes a step back towards the pool, still smirking at Andre as he walks slowly backwards.

“I was wondering whether you’re straight, you know?” Carl says conversationally, before he turns around, giving Andre a good look of his muscular back, the swell of his arse.

Eventually Andre finds his voice again. “You could have just asked,” he suggests, raising an eyebrow when Carl glances over his shoulder.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” he asks back, before he raises his arms over his head and dives into the pool in one fluid motion. He resurfaces a couple seconds later further down the pool, but he doesn’t pick up the swift crawl he had been swimming in earlier, just bobs lazily in the water arms spread wide on either side of his body. It’s an opening, an invitation, offered in the same _take it or leave it_ attitude with which Andre has watched Carl negotiate contracts, juggling five, six figure pay cheques like an elaborate game of Monopoly, like it doesn’t matter more to him than a stack of fake paper money to gamble over. It’s a lure, it’s a spider’s web, intricately spun unbeknownst to the flies already caught in it. It’s a honey trap, and Andre hasn’t indulged his sweet tooth in way too long.

Andre gets up from the deckchair, slowly crossing the distance to the pool. He dips his toes into the water, feeling it chill his feet, the heat accumulated by the sun during the day dissipated. “I didn’t bring a towel,” he says, glancing up when he hears Carl laugh.

“Chicken shit,” he teases, swimming over towards Andre.

Shaking his head, Andre sits down on the edge of the pool, sticking his legs into the water. Goosebumps race up his legs, making his skin prickle as he moves his feet back and forth in the water, feeling it move the hairs on his shins in a ghostly touch. “Are you going to make it worth my while?”

Carl laughs again. “You should get away from the racetracks more often, I didn’t know you were this much fun.” He reaches for one of Andre’s feet, catching it under the water and using it to pull himself closer to the edge before he stands up, the water coming up to his chest. “And you’re wearing too many clothes.” He lifts his hand out of the water to distractedly brush his wet hair out of his face before he reaches for the hem of Andre’s t shirt, tugging on the fabric. “This isn’t pool approved.”

Smiling indulgently, Andre leans back and tugs the shirt by the back of his collar, stripping it over his head to toss it to the side. He braces his hands on either side of his knees on the edge of the pool, fingers dipping into the water as he sees Carl’s appreciative gaze. Hunger is mixed into the playful mischief, the air between them growing heavier now that Andre is answering Carl’s teasing, ready to see where this is going.

“Better?” he asks.

“Very nice.” Carl’s voice is husky, no need to raise it from the quiet whisper with how close they’re sitting. Droplets of water are dripping into the water as he raises his hand again, his touch cool against the heated skin of Andre’s chest. He shivers under the touch, his cock stirring in his shorts as Carl strokes his fingers over Andre’s chest, thumb rubbing in circles around his nipple a couple times, drawing it into a stiff nub under his damp, chilly touch. “Now the shorts.” Carl takes a step closer, his chest pushing a small wave of water in front of him towards the edge of the pool, wetting the hems of Andre’s shorts. He involuntarily spreads his legs a little to get away from the water, but Carl only uses it to step closer, resting his hands on Andre’s knees. “Oops, sorry I got you wet.” He doesn’t look sorry at all.

“Do you say that to all the girls?” Andre asks with a smirk, startling another laugh out of Carl.

“Works for me,” he throws back unashamedly, thumbs digging into Andre’s knees. He pushes himself forwards in between Andre’s legs, not caring that more water wets the fabric on the insides of his shorts. Moving his hands away from the edge of the pool, Andre leans back, sighing when Carl follows him, drops falling from the tips of his hair onto Andre’s chest as he leans in licking over his sternum. “Lie back,” he prompts, the words hot puffs of breath against Andre’s skin.

Andre complies, lying back on the tiles that still retain a little heat from the day, their rough texture grazing against his back as he stretches out. His eyes glide to the sky stretched above him, the view he had coveted when he’d fled from the villa earlier filling the entirety of his vision. He curls his fingers, his nails catching on the seam between two tiles as he feels Carl’s fingers stroke over his stomach above the waistline of his shorts, finding the button and zipper, working them open. The night air is cool against the overheated skin of his dick, flushed and hard as Carl doesn’t waste time and draws his shorts and underwear down. Andre lifts his hips, struggling for leverage as Carl drags them over the swell of his arse. He lifts his legs out of the water, not caring how wet his shorts get now in their struggle to get him naked. Then there’s only the wet heat of Carl’s mouth on him.

“God, fuck,” Andre groans, his hips thrusting up into Carl’s mouth, feeling Carl’s hands on his hips a moment later to hold him down as he pulls back, licking a wide stripe up the underside of Andre’s dick as he lets him slip from his mouth.

“Mmh, you taste good,” Carl murmurs, placing open mouthed kisses around the base of Andre’s cock, dipping down to suck on his balls. Andre moans, spreading his legs to give Carl more space. His hips twitch, but Carl’s hold on him isn’t giving him much room to move. Andre forces himself to take a deep breath, to relax into the teasing kisses and licks Carl bestows on him and hand himself over entirely. Too many sensations push at his nerves from all sides: the rough tiles beneath him as he shifts restlessly, the cool night air against his skin that’s broken out in a sweat, the water around his legs, the warm points of Carl’s skin where his chest is pressed against the inside of Andre’s thighs, the tight heat where he’s drawn his cock back into his mouth, sucking on the tip. He can feel himself unravel with every swipe of Carl’s clever tongue, a constant stream of quiet moans and sighs leaving his lips. They aren’t in some paddock, the constant anxiety of being found out at the back of his mind despite how often he’d indulged in crude acts with the fellow drivers after a race or during the early hours of a Lemans night. Hell, what they’re doing now seems almost tame compared to some of the activities Andre had walked in on during the past couple days. Everyone is letting their hair down, and Andre just wants to enjoy himself a little, fuck the consequences.

“Fuck.” Andre gasps, his nerves tingling, toes curling in the water as Carl sucks him expertly. He lifts his hands from the tiles, searching for Carl blindly, his eyes still fixed on the starry sky above as he arches his back. Carl’s hair is wet between his fingers as he twists them into the long strands, his other hand moving over Carl’s ear to his cheek, finding it hollow as he sucks strongly, vaguely feeling the shape of his own cock as Carl bobs his head making it slide in and out between his stretched lips. His fingers tighten in Carl’s hair. “Close,” he says, his voice rough around the single syllable. He expects Carl to pull away, replace his mouth with his hand, but Carl only seems to double his effort, drawing Andre deep into his mouth again, swallowing around his cock. Andre curses under his breath, blinking before he looks down along his body only to find Carl staring right back at him, swallowing again around Andre’s cock as their eyes meet, and Andre can’t hold back any longer, hips bucking up as the arousal uncoils inside him, coming into Carl’s mouth, down his throat.

He comes back to his senses slowly, his breathing still harsh as he blinks his eyes a couple times. His hands have fallen from Carl’s hair to lie on the tiles, fingers twitching without something to hold on to. He lifts his head from the tiles only to find Carl wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking smugly at Andre where he’s still standing between his splayed thighs.

“Good?”

Andre can’t help rolling his eyes, even though his own breathlessness and the way his body is still singing with orgasmic bliss reminds him that Carl has every right to look like the cat who’s got the cream. “Fucker,” he murmurs, but there’s no heat to the word and Carl’s smirk only widens. “Get up here.”

Water cascades off Carl’s body as he pushes himself out of the pool and crawls up over Andre’s body. Andre shivers under the droplets hitting his too hot skin. He lifts his hands to Carl’s body, grasping for his flanks as Carl braces his hands on either side of his head, staring down at him, and the kiss they share feels long overdue. The stubble around Carl’s jaw is soft from the water, his lips and tongue still carrying the taste of Andre’s own come, and he moans openly, allowing Carl to lick deeply into his mouth, doing the same a moment later. Carl groans quietly, trying to settle onto Andre, to rub his achingly hard cock against Andre’s stomach, but Andre digs his fingers into Carl’s skin, urging him up. Their kiss breaks, Carl looking at him in confusion for a moment before Andre’s insistent pushing and his eyes flickering down to his cock, straining and hard between their bodies, the way Andre can’t help licking his lips with the urge of wanting to taste, make Carl catch on to his plan. Carl shuffles forwards until he’s straddling Andre’s chest, staring down at Andre with that hungry look in his eyes again, and it’s Andre’s turn to smirk as he lifts his head, opening his mouth.

Carl braces himself with one hand against the tiles, the other going to his own cock to give himself a couple strokes before he pushes his hips forwards, feeding it to Andre’s willing mouth. Andre hums happily, wrapping his lips around Carl’s cock, sucking it in deeper as Carl’s hips buck, trying to accommodate the shallow thrusts. It isn’t the perfect angle to get his mouth fucked like it would be if Carl was standing, Andre kneeling before him, but it’s good enough. Carl moves his hand to cradle the back of Andre’s head, making it easier for him to concentrate on relaxing his throat, on not choking on the satisfying girth of Carl’s dick stretching his lips wide. He can feel himself drooling, saliva running down his chin every time Carl pulls back, but if the look of heated concentration that’s edged onto Carl’s face is anything to go by, it only turns him on more. He closes his eyes, giving himself over to the taste of Carl’s dick in his mouth, the chlorine of the pool water licked away by now to give him the flavour of Carl’s skin, the muskiness of his precome smeared over his tongue every time Carl thrusts into his mouth. His hands have settled on Carl’s thigh and arse, feeling the muscles flex. Carl is quiet apart from small, needy groans he can’t hold back, giving himself away.

When he suddenly sits back, it catches Andre by surprise. He blinks his eyes open, his head still cradled by Carl’s hand to look up along his body, seeing the way he’s wrapped his own hand around his cock, jerking himself quickly, the tip glistening wetly where it’s jutting from his fist on every downstroke, the sinew in his arm standing out starkly under his tanned skin.

“Keep your mouth open,” Carl grits out and Andre does as he’s told, his tongue sneaking out to lick at the drool at the corners of his lips, hearing Carl groan above him before he reflexively closes his eyes as wet stripes of Carl’s come hit his mouth, splatter over his jaw and cheek. Carl curses, his fingers tightening against the back of Andre’s head as he rides out his orgasm. “Fucking hell, Andre.”

Andre smiles, closing his mouth to swallow what’s on his tongue. He blinks open his eyes, savouring the sex-stupid look on Carl’s face as Carl groans and clambers off him, stretching out next to Andre. He reaches out, his fingertips running over Andre’s face to gather up the come there, and Andre opens his mouth again to suck on Carl’s fingers, suck them clean. He feels debauched, wallowing in the post-orgasmic bliss that is making him loose-limbed and sleepy, the restlessness he’d felt earlier completely gone from his system. Carl is cupping Andre’s chin affectionately, the pad of his thumb rubbing over his lips and Andre sticks out his tongue to lick over it, sucks it back into his mouth to hear Carl’s breath hitch.

“We should do this again, some time,” Carl says, his voice soft and mellow, sounding as sleepy and content as Andre feels. He turns his head to face him, leaning into the slow, deep kiss Carl offers.

The plane jolts, caught in turbulence, throwing Andre from his dream. He blinks blearily against the artificial light inside the airplane, feeling his stomach jump when the plane dips again. His hands reflexively go to the buckle of his safety belt, checking where it has been closed over the blanket that’s spread over him held in place by the safety belt.

“Still an hour to New York.”

Andre looks up, meeting Carl’s eyes. They’re sitting across from each other in the squashy chairs of his private plane, so much more comfortable than the long-haul flights he’s usually taking. Andre feels spoilt, knows it will ruin him for all other kinds of travel. He yawns, stretching in the chair, actually able to stretch his legs as well.

“Must have been a good dream, you were smiling in your sleep,” Carl prompts. He’s got one finger stuck between the pages of his book, but he looks tired too, and Andre wonders if he’d had any rest at all.

“Was a good dream,” he agrees, closing his eyes for a moment to recapture the scent of chlorine, the sound of ocean waves, the taste of Carl’s lips. He doesn’t have to think hard, the taste intimately familiar to him by now. Back then neither of them could have expected the string of encounters they’d have all over the world, finding each other again and again after a race or in between session. Back then it had all been just fun and games and no consequences, a chance meeting at night, one Andre had almost turned away from. He’s eternally grateful he hadn’t. “Mykonos,” he says, knows it’s all the explanation he needs when a slow, indulgent smile spreads over Carl’s lips.


End file.
